


Day 7: Isolation

by MadhouseVagabond



Series: Whump-tober 2019 [7]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Isolation, Sad, Whump, Whumptober 2019, battle buddies, day no. 7, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadhouseVagabond/pseuds/MadhouseVagabond





	Day 7: Isolation

The small figure huddled against the far wall, holding his knees to his chest as he tried for the thousandth time to calm down, to stop himself from crying. He'd been here for several weeks now, he'd lost count after three, kept in this cell alone. The walls and floor were concrete, the door heavy iron with seemingly no way to open it from his end, a dim fluorescent light fixture in the ceiling his only means of light.

He'd been given a tray of food and drink through a slot at the base of the door, one that would open and close three times a day. It was always the same thing, a glass of lukewarm water and a plate of some sort of paste-like food that, while it looked awful, tasted fine. The food wouldn't come unless he left the tray in front of the slot. He'd tried a few times to look through when it opened but the other side was dark, and no limbs reached through to grab the tray, the items being pulled through by a rod of some sort. Once he'd tried to grab the rod but it had been yanked back and he hadn't been given food for what felt like three days.

His mind was foggy for a while, his thoughts clouded and jumbled as he tried to sort them out, resulting in a headache. Once it cleared though, he wished he hadn't been able to remember.

He'd been taken, grabbed and knocked out. But he'd been with someone, the two of them shoved into the back of a black, unmarked van. Where was Ryan? What had happened to him? Was he okay? Was he going through the same thing he was going through? He'd called for his friend, screamed his name hoping the older man would hear him and shout back or give him a sign that he was still alive and nearby. He'd given up hope days ago.

He kept himself busy the first few days by exercising, keeping active and fit. After that though, he took to pacing, trying to puzzle out a way to get free. Then he descended into himself, his thoughts and emotions going every direction at a thousand miles an hour. His memories slowly trickled back, remembering others, his friends. He remembered who he was. Whenever he began to doubt reality he'd sit in the corner as he was now and mutter to himself.

"My name is Jeremy Dooley. I'm an agent of Rooster Corps. My partner is Ryan Haywood. My Battle Buddy."

Jeremy looked up suddenly, started by what he thought was a sound. He listened intently for several moments before sighing deeply. No one was coming for him, they would've done so by now if they were. HQ probably figured he'd popped his cyanide capsule and had moved on with their lives. And where the hell was Ryan? They were never too far apart from one another, always working as a team, inseparable.

_What if Ryan abandoned me?_ The sudden thought made him tear up and he shook his head. Ryan wouldn't leave him. They were best friends, partners, Battle Buddies. They never left the other behind!

So where was he? Jeremy suddenly got a cold feeling as a thought played at the back of his mind.

_What if they killed Ryan?_

He shook his head and whimpered slightly. No! They wouldn't kill him, he was too valuable alive. They were probably holding him in a cell similar to Jeremy, for what reason he hadn't the faintest clue. He didn't have any intel on his kidnappers, just the van they'd forced him and Ryan into. He hadn't seen faces or brands or identifying marks or logos, hadn't heard them speak. No one had come to interrogate him, which he guessed was a good thing to a degree.

His eyes filled with tears and he hugged his legs closer. He was alone, forgotten. The isolation taking its toll on him. He felt very small, smaller than normal, and very afraid he'd die here, alone with no one by his side. He stood to shaky legs and made his way to the door.

"Hey! Let me out of here! Please! What do you want?" he screamed as he pounded his fist on the door, tears streaming down his cheeks as sobs began to make speaking difficult.

"Please just, talk to me at least! Fucking come in here and beat me senseless I don't care! Just fucking do something!" he cried. He wanted out, wanted some sort of human companionship, even if that meant he'd experience pain.

"What've you done with my partner? Where's Ryan? What did you do to him?" he screamed, pounding his fist harder against the door.

Silence, deafening silence rang in his ears. No response, no sound other than his own voice echoing around him. His sobs grew louder as he slid down the door and curled up on the floor, wishing desperately to hear another human voice. He missed Ryan, missed his smile, his laugh, his dumb dad jokes; missed the warm friendly hugs the gent would give him. He longed for those hugs, Ryan always making him feel safe, at home, making him feel loved. Funny how a simple hug could make everything better, if only for a brief moment, lost in that sense of comfort and security, the world and its problems forgotten.

He pressed his forehead to the cold concrete floor and sobbed, wanting it all to end. He was tired of being alone, he hated it.

His isolation was his damnation.


End file.
